Masquerade
by Skeasel
Summary: Sometimes only behind a mask does desire truly flourish.


Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

Masquerade

The heat of the room set my head to spinning, the indiscernible chattering of hundreds buzzing in my ear. I gripped my glass of Orlesian champagne as if it could not but steady me, the cool delicate crystal slippery with condensation. Thick skirts rustled about my legs, heavy brocade hampering my progress through the crowd. I had yet to meet a single noble who knew not my identity, all aware of the Champion's presence at the ball. 'Twas not the reception I had hoped for, silently praying for anonymity beneath m y mask. Alas, it was not to be.

I smiled pleasantly at a passing noble, a necessary habit I had acquired during the eve's festivities. His eyes brightened beneath a plumage of bright orange feathers, a delicate nose crinkling ever so slightly under the weight of his mask. I dared not guess his name, for I had been wrong many times this night, and had little desire to offend more of the nobility than I already had.

He bowed genteelly even as the lavishly dressed woman on his arm demanded his attention. I watched them disappear into the masses, his bright plumage eventually melding with the riot of color dancing over the marble floors. Music soared through the air and reverberated off the flying buttresses, while candlelight glistened off the many crystal chandeliers. The wealthy swayed in rhythm to the splendor and I was mesmerized by such grandeur. Truly, Kirkwall's nobility was well educated in extravagance.

I sipped once more on my champagne, the sweet searing my tongue and clouding my thoughts. Another masked noble offered me his arm for a dance, but I politely declined, a rich smile upon my colored lips. I had yet to dance with any potential suitor this eve, for I knew that was exactly how it would be perceived. Alas, my escort had disappeared into the maelstrom of excess and debauchery. I knew it had been a mistake to bring Isabela, but my first choice had declined to even respond to my request.

I let slip an irritated sigh even as I attempted to maintain a pleasant demeanor, eyes bright and smile welcoming the passing guests, their greetings and niceties devolving into a blur. I soon found myself outside on the balcony, the green of the garden before me, the shadows of the night dancing to the music flowing from within. Cool air kissed my brow and I leaned against the banister, basking in a moment of peace. I need not question why Fenris refused my request. I had long questioned my own attendance. I had activities of greater import than engaging in fanciful tomfoolery at de Launcet's annual masquerade. However, such was the duty of the wealthy and noble, and given the convoluted politics of the city, I needed no new enemies.

Silence descended as the orchestra paused only to be immediately replaced by appreciative applause. Laughter and revelry abounded as a new tune was struck accompanied by a lively gavotte. I turned my back to the gardens, steeling myself against the snobbery and silken deceit sure to shadow my evening, only to stop suddenly. A dark figure stood before me, perfectly still and statuesque in the night. Black feathers adorned a simple mask, red lips peeking sensually out from below. Green eyes smoldered beneath dark lashes, barely visible in the weak candlelight. He extended his hand in a simple, fluid gesture that spoke volumes, and as if in a trance, I accepted.

He led me inside and through the maelstrom of color, silken skirts hot on my bare skin as we moved into position on the dance floor. Silence descended once more only to be broken by curious whispers. We waited mere moments as the orchestra started anew, allowing the rhythm of the music to sweep through us, a bold allegretto setting my body to motion.

He led with grace, fluid and effortless, his firm body pressed unabashedly against my own. Our duet spanned the floor, stunned guests looking on with a mix of surprise and scorn. I cared not, my thoughts only for the heat of his hand on the small of my back, the pounding of my heart as my breasts heaved with delightful exertion. He need not hide the hunger in his gaze for I knew it was mirrored in my own, my coherence no longer muddled by champagne, but by something far more potent.

I moved with him, oblivious to all others and caring for naught but him. Excitement raced through my veins, heated with passion and longing, and as the crescendo built with aching intensity, so too did my yearning. He pulled me to him, skirts sweeping over the marble and undulating in emerald waves. Candlelight flashed wildly above us as if in envy, and as the music peaked, he made no attempt to hide the hard press of his length as he crushed his body against mine.

And then all was silence.

He held my gaze with no thought for aught else, green eyes still smoldering beneath the dark of his mask. He spoke no words and made no movements save to step back, bow, and disappear once more into the crowd surrounding us. I remained, dumbfounded, slowly reclaiming my senses as the trickle of applause gradually grew deafening. Unable to hide the flush of my body even under my mask, I smiled shyly instead, willing my hunger to subside to no avail.

With little care for pleasantries, I forced my way through the crowd, following his lead once more. I knew he would not remain in such contemptible company, and so abandoning etiquette, I made for the door and the night air of Hightown.

Soft breezes greeted me, and I welcomed their cooling caresses as I crossed the cobblestone courtyards. My heels clicked loudly in the emptiness of the night, but still I continued on with fervor, eager to continue our dance. I knew him, more so than either one of us cared to admit, and I had no doubt as to where he had escaped.

The door creaked loudly as I slipped inside the mansion, rusting hinges alerting him to my presence. I cared not for subtlety, driven by the cravings he had stirred within me. Long had I yearned for his attentions, for even a hint – an acknowledgment of what we had shared, but never would I push lest he run again.

I lifted my skirts as I raced up the staircase, the orange glow of his fire blazing against the dark of night. The scent of smoke and wine drifted on the air, the glowing embers adding accompaniment to the many candles lighting his chambers. He stood facing the window, his silhouette rigid, feathered mask discarded upon the broken tiles of the floor. I slowed my steps as I approached, allowing my eyes to fully adjust to the light within. Silken skirts rustled upon the floor, the only sound between us save for the occasional crackle of the logs.

And once more, all was silence.

I took a tentative step forward and removed my mask, pausing as he slowly turned to me. Green eyes met mine, sparkling wildly in the light of the fire, blatant hunger in their depths. Blood thundered in my ears as my heart pounded, the sound almost deafening. I licked my lips and somehow managed to find my voice.

"Fenris?"

And all coherent thought vanished. In two strides he was on me, strong hands gripping the back of my neck as he crushed his lips to mine. I obeyed, bending to his will as he devoured every part of me I had to offer, and still I wanted him to take more. The sharp snap of fabric echoed in my ears as he cut the stays of my corset, the heavy garment falling to the floor, and I reveled momentarily in freedom before he took my breath away yet again.

Patience abandoned for need, I pulled at his belt, satisfaction sweeping through me at the sound of the buckle crashing to the floor. Desperate with desire I pushed him to the bench and hefted my skirts, settling my weight onto him with little regard for propriety. A throaty growl escaped him and I ached with ecstasy as he sheathed his length within me.

Green eyes sparkled in the firelight, damp skin hot against my own. His movements were slow, precise, and once more I followed his lead. Bliss enveloped me, the taste of him dulling my thoughts. Hunger drove me onward, our pace growing frenzied as need pounded within my core. I could withstand his attentions no longer and my body wilted under his ministrations, succumbing to the rhythm of desire.

He pulled me to him, tasting my flesh as he buried himself deeper and deeper within. I cried out, pain and pleasure merging in the throes of passion, the potency of his body sweeter than any champagne. And just as before he stilled, holding my gaze with no thought for aught else, green eyes cooling from the heat of passion. He spoke no words and made no movements save to bury his head against the tender flesh of my neck, sated and still.

And then all was silence, save for the pounding of his heart.


End file.
